Yes, that "confirmed" distinction was important.
Because there'd already been an unimaginable number of attacks thrown Owen's way, and visually speaking, almost every single one of them looked like they should've hit.
People throughout the audience had long since risen from their seats, their collective breaths catching in their throats as Oliver Mylor's pitch-black mecha was utterly bombarded from seemingly every direction. The tension hanging over the arena had grown so thick that hardly anyone felt like they could breathe properly.
Many were undoubtedly worried about the young cadet, hoping against hope that he was alright inside that mecha.
His siblings were already bracing themselves, and it was honestly a wonder how the Mylor Marquis couple had managed to remain sane when even the teenager's own Academy professors were out there praying in different tongues.
